Stretched Time

Stretched Time Twenty years! TWENT YEARS! I have lived in this tiny hamlet a lifetime…for some. Maybe I have been here hundred years and the time before I came is shrouded in a mythical dream. Deep oceans of pasts that wash up on the strand of illusion and must therefore be reinvented. On top of a hill I can see the ocean…and yes it has sunlight on and glitters just like a postcard or a holiday brochure. Vaguely remember, didn’t I used to be a seafarer who spent too much time alone, in a blue cabin, reading too many books about intrepid travelers so I could forget my own voyage? I wonder if Nelson Mandela remembers he once was president, or does he dimly remember it as a youthful dream? My dream was to be a cowboy not a shipboard cook cleaning pots and pans and endless, the Irish stew, bacon and meatballs. Twenty years, yes it has been a long time, a lifetime…for some.